


the ghost of you

by vanilluhbeaux (distinque)



Series: 50 Hakuchumu [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23728273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distinque/pseuds/vanilluhbeaux
Summary: I see dead people. It's no big deal, really.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Series: 50 Hakuchumu [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1391809
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	the ghost of you

There's a large river behind my house, but it's hidden behind a thicket containing all sorts of wild plant life. It's normally a lush and green place, but if you looked hard enough, you could see the dirt and secrets the river holds. They aren't hidden too well, but just enough to look like it belonged, to where no one would question its existence. I haven't the slightest idea how a mess of trees and shrubs planted themselves there or  _ why  _ they did, but they were there. It grows untamed by man or by animal, spreading as far and as wide as the trees see fit. Their roots are lodged underneath the banks of the river, absorbing all the water they could ever need. The miniature forest stands as a defense against anything, guarding the river it drinks from with all it's life. A blanket of greens and browns, exactly thirty feet away from my back porch.

It's beautiful, I think. Protecting something that sustains you, that is. I'm not a fan of plant life, or life of any matter, but that's a different story. I have a respect for anything that shields anything else, though, no matter what it is. The trees are a magnificent fortress, guarding without looking out of place. It creates a beautiful scene, without neglecting it's sole duty.

It's perfect, really.

I take a walk to visit the river every so often. I come regularly enough for the trees to recognize me and not attack me, but not often enough to develop a special connection to the muddy banks and thick wood. They're just trees, I have to remind myself. Trees that have no feelings, good nor evil, towards people - towards  _ me.  _ I am not favored by the timberland, or by the waters. I am simply a man in their metaphorical eyes, an insignificant part of life. They are the same in mine.

A group of plants sheltering a body of running water.

I used to believe that spirits got lost looking for the way to wherever they're going, and that they're trapped on Earth when they can't decide. Souls of the deceased lingered around the earth for as long as history has been written, but their accounts cannot be documented by them. They're wanderers, I'd like to think, searching for a place to call their own, but having no place in the world they're trapped in.

After meeting her in the heavy woodland, I realize that I was so very wrong.

.

.

.

My mother says I was cursed with  _ The Sight,  _ an ability passed down from her side of the family. They've been blessed with the curse for thousands of years, and never spoke of it to anyone. A hushed secret, even in the company of their loved ones. It's another skeleton in the closet, so to speak. Frankly, I do not mind being 'cursed.' It's not a huge deal to me, just another fact of my life. My mother's been dead for as long as I can remember, but judging by her past actions, I think she let go of every bit of this world long before she passed. She was always sort of a wanderer, getting lost in the tiniest things. Nothing passed through her dark eyes that didn't amaze her.

She had a wanderlust, a strong emotional tie to everything that was not in front of her.

Pardon me if I'm being rude. I simply do  _ not  _ associate with the living too much to know how to act around them. My name is Sasuke Uchiha, and I am seventeen. I live with my brother, Itachi, in a small town in the Fire Country. I am in high school, like most people my age. I have likes and dislikes, but I do not care enough to share them with you. I have black hair and dark eyes, like my mother and brother.

I can see the spirits of the dead just as easily as the living. It's not a big deal, really, but it plays a big part in this story of mine, if I could call it that. I feel like I shouldn't because it's not entirely  _ my  _ story. I'm the one telling it, because  _ she  _ cannot. She no longer possesses the ability to speak to the living as I can, but I don't think she wants too, anymore. In fact,  _ I'm  _ the only living thing she wants to be bothered with. This isn't just my story, it's hers too.  _ Our  _ story, if you will.

She's the reason why I ventured into the woods one windy, starless night. The moon hung overhead, staring me down with its luminescence. It was full that night, and glowed yellow with a passion I don't believe I had ever seen. Clouds were scattered about the indigo sky, but none around the moon at all.

I should've known then what happened. All of the signs were there, just like they were every time I ran into another lost one. They usually didn't stick around long enough for me to get to know them, who they  _ were  _ and who they  _ are.  _ They found their way eventually, leaving me with a fragmented memory.

But I didn't know. I crept out of the house stealthily enough not to wake my brother, but not quietly enough to keep the trees calm. They twisted and turned in the breeze, seeming displeased with my intruding. I didn't know  _ exactly  _ where I was going, but I knew I had to go somewhere in the forest.  _ Something  _ was calling me, and calling me  _ loudly. _

I followed blindly, only guided by the sound of a sad, but soulful voice. By then, I realized that it was an apparition, a misguided ghost calling my name. I couldn't discern whether or not it was feminine or masculine, but I followed all the same. A spirit in distress would seek me out, and I'd be stuck with it either way. It made much more sense for me to find it first.

At least, I thought it did. I still do.

.

.

.

I've never met a ghoul so  _ young  _ before. I found her curled underneath a canopy of leaves, sheltering the shivering girl from the elements. I was sure the leaves bended around her, silently listening to her pleas, just as I was. The forest had a way of picking and choosing just what it did, and it chose to listen to her today. I was slightly envious, the timber favored someone so much  _ different  _ than itself.

But it was the way the universe decided to work that night.

Long, sopping wet hair covered her upper body. Her knees were pressed to her chest and her arms wrapped around her high knees. She kept her face hidden from the elements, and coincidentally, me. She was too dark to determine the true color of her hair, but it seemed to be a light purple underneath the dark green hue of the shelter. She was cloaked in a tight dark dress and even darker tights clung to her being.

She was not wearing shoes, but had one white sock on her left foot.

She had the aura of a new soul. It was in the air around her, wafting and circling carelessly around her small, hunched over form. It was in incredible abundance, having just been separated from the confines of a physical body. It stretched from her place in the forest towards the river itself. I've seen large auras before, but this was outrageous.

I could barely see it in the darkness. It was a deep, murky color and smelled of hazelnuts. I wasn't too familiar with this smell, but I knew I recognized it. Judging by the darkness of the girl crying alone, I'd say it meant that she didn't know that  _ it  _ happened.

I was right.

"'Ey," I called, hoping to snap her attention. She lifted her head slowly, and her eyes poured into mine. Wet hair clung to her equally wet face as teary, inhumanly green eyes stared straight ahead. In all my years, I never seen eyes like that. They were a shade of green that made them appear golden, but still distinctly a vibrant green. These eyes shone brightly at me, but were incredibly  _ empty.  _ Behind those green iris's was absolutely nothing, and I knew that they were beautiful when she was alive.

When you're alive, your eyes show your soul. They can give away every secret you've kept close to your core, expose every lie you've ever told, and unleash every demon you're fighting against. Eyes are the gateway to the spirit, and those gates were always open, to me, at least. I've always been able to read people easily, a bit too easily for my liking. That's probably why I don't like the living as much as I  _ should,  _ but I can't help it. The dead had a certain way about them. Their soul was bared to you, in the purest form. It held no more lies and secrets, and the only struggle was against itself. Everything is revealed by simply looking at the phantom. Their eyes were expressive, but not hidden and clouded.

I think they are more beautiful this way.

Staring into her eyes, I realized what happened to her, even if she didn't. She was taken from her home, and murdered in the river hidden by the thicket.

The trees didn't do their job.


End file.
